


Nothing But The Truth

by exhaustedwerewolf



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: 5+1 Things, Canon Compliant, Christmas Fluff, Kinda, M/M, Soulmate AU-You can't lie to your soulmate, mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 18:30:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9001780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exhaustedwerewolf/pseuds/exhaustedwerewolf
Summary: Five times Tyrannus Bastillon Pitch told Simon Snow the truth, and the one time he didn’t get away with it.





	

_O N E_

The first time Bastillon Pitch tried to lie to Simon Snow, they had only been roommates for three weeks.

 

No matter the poise Baz exuded, something like this was bound to happen eventually. Groggy with sleep on a Monday morning, he stood from kneeling at the foot of the armoire, having gathered up his uniform, and smacked his head into an open drawer at full force. A loud bang, like the crack of a starting pistol that he didn't recognise as the noise of the collision until moments later, and he crumpled, collapsing onto his side, hugging his knees to his chest.

 

It must’ve sounded bad, because Simon let his infuriating bouncy ball roll away, and brought his hands up over his mouth in surprise.

 

“Are you okay?” He exclaimed- his voice hadn't yet lost that childish lilt.

 

Once Baz had choked down any exclamations of pain, he summoned the energy to reply; _I’m completely fine._

 

“Obviously not, genius, I’m in incredible pain.” He ground out, and then froze, abruptly forgetting about the ache.

 

“Okay, okay, no need to be such a pratt about it.” Simon replied tetchily, and he turned to root around for his misplaced ball, muttering to himself.

 

Baz rolled onto his back, and stared uncomprehendingly at the ceiling.

 

He’d _really_ meant to say that he was fine.

 

_T W O_

Simon was flattening his hair against his head, and drumming his fingers irritatingly against his thigh, perched on the end of his bed, repeatedly glancing down at his watch.

 

Baz, cross-legged on his own bed, stared determinedly at the pages of his book.

 

After the third short sigh in as many minutes, Baz said;

 

“I can’t believe you’re so nervous. It’s just Agatha.”

 

Simon practically jumped out of his skin.

 

“How did you-”

 

“I have my ways, Simon Snow.” Baz was quick to cut him off before he could ask a clearer question.

 

Simon sighed again, tensely. Baz’s left eye twitched imperceptibly.

 

“Just… Will you stop being a... Could you do this one thing for me?” He stood up, spreading his arms out slightly. Baz was reminded of a saint in a renaissance painting; he might as well have been wearing a halo. “You’re actually good at this stuff. Do I look completely unpresentable?”

 

“You look absolutely stunning, Snow, as always.”

 

An audible pause, a tactile, uncomfortable pause, before Baz, after a good few moments of internal hysterics, stated flatly;

 

“Simon Snow, you’re one of the most naive people I’ve ever met.”

 

Simon glowered, and Baz hid his face behind his book.

 

_T H R E E_

Simon had left the bathroom door open.

 

Baz wasn’t trying to look; he really wasn’t, but as Simon pulled his school shirt over his head the glint of gold caught his eye, and he paused.

 

In that moment, Simon glanced up and saw him watching through the mirror, and he was opening his mouth, so Baz interrupted;

 

“What’s with the crucifix, Snow?” He kept his tone challenging, argumentative, but healthily disinterested. Simon reached up to close his fist around it, looked ready to tell his roommate to _Kindly sod off,_ when;

 

“I’m wearing it because I think you’re a vampire.”

 

Baz saw the instance of shock play across Simon’s face, and fought to keep his own expression unreadable. _I really have to get out of the habit of asking this boy questions._

 

“Seriously?” He couldn’t resist, even as the thought surfaced. He could never resist when it came to Simon.

 

“I’m- being totally serious.”  Simon choked out. He was staring at himself in the mirror now, thoroughly bewildered. Baz chuckled at his expression, and an idea occurred to him;

 

“You’re completely right.” He grinned.

 

“I’m... what?” Poor Snow, standing there like a deer in the headlights, clutching his necklace.

 

“You’re completely right. I’m a vampire,” Baz injected all the sarcasm into his voice that he could muster, drawing on years of experience. “That’s why I sneak down to the catacombs every night- to feed on the rats." He drew his speech out, lingering over each word. "I drain them of blood, and then I toss the carcasses to the merwolves. Sometimes, all I can think about is blood.” He fluttered his fingers for dramatic effect, getting a little carried away, and affecting a cheesy Transylvanian accent. “And I want to suck _your_ blood, Simon Snow!” He posed, fingers clawlike, grin maniacal.

 

“...Fuck off.” Simon retorted, swinging round to slam the door shut.

 

Baz made sure his roommate saw him roll his eyes before it did.

 

_F O U R_

“I’m leaving.” Simon said, and maybe it’s the fresh blood coursing through Baz’s veins, but he knows he want him to stay.

 

“Come on, Snow, you can sleep on my couch. The wraiths don’t hang out in here.” Seeing him standing there, in borrowed pyjamas- it's like a weight on his chest, that heaviness that precedes crying.

 

“Why not?”

 

“I creep them out.”

 

“You-” _creep me out,_ Baz finished the sentence in his head, waited with a twinge of bitterness, but Simon blinked, and forced out, “You’re the most normal thing in this whole house.”

 

Baz turned to lay out a blanket, hiding his smile, and felt Simon watching his back.

 

"I should hope that'll be enough to make you stay." He shook it out sharply, and it billowed white as a blizzard.

 

_F I V E_

“I killed him.”

 

Simon’s voice was distant.

 

The dust had settled; it was unbearably quiet. Baz couldn't stand it.

 

“It’s going to be okay.” Baz told him, for once not thinking about what he can and cannot say around Simon Snow. Simon’s stupidly handsome face was streaked with dirt, and his eyes were brighter for it, seemed to shine; although that might've just be unshed tears. He was looking at Baz, but he could've been seeing nothing at all. “It’s all right, love.”

 

Baz held the Chosen One in his arms and wished he could do more.

 

_O N E_

Baz eased the apartment door closed, drinking in the warm, dry air gratefully when he heard the gentle click of the lock. He shrugged off his coat, still damp with rainwater, and stepped, as gracefully as he could in soggy socks, out of his shoes, proceeding down the hall without switching on the lights. He was halfway to the bedroom when;

 

“Baz?”

 

Baz bristled, clutching the paper bag to his chest in a lame effort to conceal it.

 

“Why are you walking about in the dark?”

 

The hall sprang into light, revealing Simon, leaning lazily against the doorframe that led to the kitchen. Looking better than he had any business looking, standing there in his bare feet, his tail flicking back and forth in cat-like curiosity.

 

“I wanted to get in without you noticing.” Baz said in a helpless rush, and then screwed shut his eyes, allowing himself a hiss of frustration.

 

Simon tilted his head, glancing at the bag. _Please don’t ask me what it is,_ Baz thought desperately.

 

“What’s that, and why are you holding it like it’s your baby?”

 

“It’s a decent coat for you- it’s your Christmas present- Aleister Crowley, Simon!”

 

Simon collapsed into laughter he made no effort to hide, and Baz scowled.

 

“Why did you ask me?” He demanded, exasperated.

 

“What are you doing Christmas shopping in November?” Simon asked, still laughing.

 

“Trying to keep it a secret from you, of course.” Baz huffed, straightening and brushing a wet strand of hair from his face.

 

“Aw, you’re sulking now.” Simon teased. Baz rolled his eyes and turned pointedly away. “I really am sorry.”

 

Baz made an unsympathetic noise.

 

“Okay, okay, I get it, it was unfair! Ask me something?” Simon tried, cracking a smile. “So that we’re even?”

 

“Oh, like what, Simon Snow?” Baz said, annoyed, and Simon arched an eyebrow. The gesture had a Pitch-type cockiness to it, and it caught Baz's attention at once- he watched, wide-eyed, and he hoped he'd never have to admit to how his pulse fluttered as Simon pushed off the door frame.

  
“Like,” Simon breathed, drawing close at long last, so close that Baz could feel the sigh in the air as he spoke. “If I want to kiss you?”


End file.
